Until the Storm
by VenderMalfoy
Summary: Two mugs of coffee, a Shakespeare classic, a proposal left to be heard, and a mystery to solve. "Smile, Granger. I know you want to. Smile, for me." [Draco/Hermione]


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. At all.**

 **A/N: I know that I should stay focused on my other story, but weirdly enough, I dreamt this scene, and I knew for certain that I absolutely had to write it down. So please, enjoy and review!**

* * *

 **Until the Storm**

 **...**

"No, mom." Hermione Granger replied to a certain irritated woman on the phone. "No, I don't. I don't have a boyfriend." Hermione swiftly walked to her kitchen and started to make a cup of coffee. Though it was 9 o'clock at night, she often enjoyed drinking coffee at this time of the day. Caffeine never had much of an effect an her.

"And I don't need one, okay? I'm doing fine on my own." She carefully placed her kettle on the stove. "Yes, my flat is clean. Of course, it is, mum. I'm your daughter after all." She chuckled nervously while glancing back at her flat. Of all the words that could be used to describe her home, 'clean' was definitely not the right one.

"No, mum. Having a boyfriend would not solve the problem because first of all, I do not have a problem about getting paid, and second of all I do not need a boyfriend." The water was beginning to boil.

"I'm a Healer, mum. Doctors. I only come here to sleep. Yes, I get paid well mum. I told you." Hermione started to pour the water in her favorite mug.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't need a boyfriend. And I don't want one. At all. Yes, mom, at all." Coffee was ready. Hermione took the mug and relaxed on the couch, still talking to her mother. "R-Ron? What does Ron have to do w..with this?"Hermione felt her heart thud at the mention of his name.

"I-I'm not interested in him, sorry. We ended like.. ages ago. Um... you know what, mum? I-I really have to go." Hermione rubbed her eyes and placed her coffee on a small table. "I just came back from work. Still some stuff to do."

"Yeah, bye. See you in the weekends. Love you too." The phone call was finally over and Hermione heaved a heavy sigh.

'This feisty woman...' She thought, chuckling as she threw her phone on her couch. Her hair cascaded down to her back as she untied her long hair that was pulled up in a loose bun. Another tiring day has gone by and she was finally home. At last.

Living as a Healer was difficult. Patients, clients, paperwork... There were so many things that she had to do and sometimes, Hermione found it difficult to handle everything on her hands. And she was _Hermione Granger._

But, honestly, living as Hermione Granger was much more difficult than living as a Healer. Wherever she went, people stared, pointing at her while whispering 'That's Hermione Granger, the war heroine.' Everyone expected her to be good at everything. They expected her to be a great person, a great friend, and some even used her as a reference book, an encyclopedia. They wanted her to solve their simplest problems that occured at work, but also their minor personal problems as well. And those expectations tired Hermione.

She heaved a heavy sigh and while combing her hair with her fingers, she walked over to the large bookcase in the living room.

No, truth be told, it was hard to decide on whether she even had a living room in her tiny flat at all. The kitchen area and the living room area were somewhat merged together with no distinctive barrier between the two. She did have a bedroom though and even though it was small with nothing in there but a small bed, she couldn't care about the size of her flat. She only came here during the night for a few hours of sleep, and she left soon afterwards. Her office felt more _home_ to her anyway.

Hermione began to trace her finger along the wooden bookcase, thinking about which book to read for the remainder of the night. After a few moments of consideration, she decided to read a Shakespeare classic, Romeo and Juliet.

Somehow, she didn't know why though, she related her life to that of the characters in the book.

Hermione brought the book to the couch, had a sip of coffee and started to read.

Always being a fast reader, it was 15 minutes before 10 o'clock by the time Hermione read the first half of the book. She slightly put the book down on the small table and drank a sip of her coffee.

Just then, her doorbell rang.

As she slowly stood up to get the door, she mentally noted herself. 'Get a grip of yourself, Hermione. It's almost 10 o'clock now. What kind of person would come visit you at this hour? It's probably just you hearing things because of the tiring day.'

And she sat down immediately. After drinking a sip of coffee, she picked up her book again and started to continue to read.

-Ding-

She heard it again. This time, it was a much sharper and louder note and somehow, Hermione began to think that somebody was actually there, waiting in front of her doorstep, waiting for the door to open.

Frowning, she stood up and started to walk towards the door.

As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she heard the sound again. Being closer to the door, she could hear the sound much more clearly than before and now, she was sure that somebody was ringing her doorbell. Hermione gulped. Shivers ran down her spine.

At that exact moment, she swung the door open. Her other hand was rested on her back pocket, where her wand was so that she would be ready for the person in front of her: friend or foe.

"M-Malfoy?" Hermione blurted out, shocked. She sucked in a breath.

Indeed it was. Malfoy.

The git from school. The ex-Death Eater. The very one and only who made her school life miserable. He was Malfoy.

A much taller, a much more... pleasing-to-the-eyes Malfoy, but a Malfoy nonetheless. He was standing there, in front of Hermione with his signature scum look on his face. He was wearing a loose grey shirt and black pants and he had on a large black mask that was covering his mouth as well as a dark cap that he had on his head. From what he was wearing, it seemed as if he wanted to hide himself in the dark shadows of the night. Still, even though he hid almost every inch of his skin with dark clothing, his white-blonde hair and stunningly grey eyes allowed Hermione to realize the man in front of her.

"Good to know you didn't forget my name, Granger, but hello to you too." He said under the mask. His voice rumbled and something inside Hermione tickled as his low voice hit her ear over and over again.

"Oh, sorry. Hello... Malfoy." Hermione responded back. "I.. I just didn't expect you... to be here."

"Expecting someone else, then?" He asked, his eyebrows crooked.

"No, not really." She replied. She stared down at her hands.

"Good."

An awkward silence struck. A soft breeze blew, causing some strands of hair to get in Hermione's way. But, somehow, she couldn't move. Probably because of the awkward tension, she thought.

"So... M-Malfoy, what brings you here? In Muggle London?" Hermione blurted out suddenly, still standing at her doorstep.

"Are you proposing that I shouldn't be here, in Muggle London?"

"No.. I.. I didn't mean that. I just.. haven't seen you for a while."

"Five years and seven months."

Hermione frowned as she stared down at her hands again.

"Yes, Granger. I kept count." His voice was much more quieter, even sad somehow, and Hermione simply didn't know how to respond.

"Well-"

"I'm here, after those five years and seven months, Granger, because... I need to make a proposal." Hermione could easily notice that the signature Malfoy smirk was creeping up on his mouth, even from under the mask.

"A.. proposal?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Indeed. A proposal. To you"

"About.. what?" Hermione blurted out. But, Malfoy didn't respond to that. Instead, he kept on staring at Hermione with this _weird_ look on his face.

"W-What?" She asked.

"You're not going to invite me in, Granger?" He asked. "Because I have a feeling that this.. will take a while. I'm not pressuring you, though. If you actually want to stand here for those long hours, then I can easily tell you my story here with a door widely open until, well, until about 2 o'clock."

"My flat's not.. clean." Hermione answered with a worried look on her face, while apologizing to her mother inwardly.

Malfoy kept on staring at her with that look.

"I really shouldn't.. You.. I mean." Hermione began to stutter.

"We're 28, Granger. School's over. Way over. If you're thinking about how I used to torment you all those years, well, you shouldn't because that isn't going to happen again. I assure you. And I can also tell you that you're not an extremely important person in life to me, Granger. But this proposal is an important one, for me, and I don't want things to go out of control. I'm trying to act civil here, if you haven't noticed. But if you're not going to let me in because of _that reason_ , well..." Malfoy scratched his arm.

"Oh, fine." She turned around, telling him to come in. She then walked over to the kitchen and stared at her kettle.

"Do you want something to drink, Malfoy?" She yelled from the kitchen.

"Coffee, maybe? If you have some left at this hour." He answered back.

A few minutes later, Hermione returned to her couch with a mug of coffee in her hand. Malfoy, who had taken off his cap and mask, took the mug with a short nod. After a moment of consideration, Hermione sat next to the blond haired man in a stiff position while holding onto her mug nervously.

"So... what proposal are you trying to make, Malfoy?" She asked while staring down at her coffee. The black liquid danced in her mug.

Malfoy didn't respond. Instead, he suddenly stood up from his seat and walked up to that awkward nonexistent barrier between her living room and the kitchen and picked up a small picture that she had placed on a shelf. Startled, Hermione stood up as well and walked over to Malfoy.

He was looking at a picture of her and Ron.

It was approximately 3 years ago, when they were both 25 years old. Ron and Hermione had been dating back then, quite vigorously, yes. They had apparated to Paris that day while holding onto each other's hand and had a wonderful dinner, gazing out the window watching the beautiful night. Hermione had brought a muggle camera for the trip, trying to capture every moment possible in that small device.

And that was the best memory with Ron. She wanted to keep it inside of her, that small memory, and never let anyone else rummage through that memory. Whenever she felt sad and lonely, she would crawl up in her bed, take out that valuable memory from her heart and cherish it. Oh, how she missed the moment.

It was special.

Maybe it felt more special, to the point of heartache, because Ron had died two years ago.

The reason was still unknown, but before that long two years, Ron mysteriously disappeared. Aurors from all around the world scattered about to find him, but no one could find his body. Everything that he had once owned, from the Weasley sweater with a huge R on it to his Hogwarts robes were gone. It was as if Ron Weasley had never been born. After long months of investigation, it was concluded that he had died, reason unknown.

And of course, Hermione was devastated. She refused to talk to anyone for weeks, locking herself in her tiny flat. She had grown weak as she refused to eat anything and still, even though a lot of time had passed, she dreamed of him every day.

Hermione slowly reached out for the picture as she felt herself getting lost in her own emotions.

"I... Can you put it down, Malfoy?" She asked in the politest way possible.

"You shouldn't have put the picture in this wide open space if you didn't want others to look at it, Granger. Well, wait. I wouldn't exactly say _wide_ considering the size of this flat, but you get the point, right?" Malfoy quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Come on, Malfoy. Give it back, p-please!" She said, trying to get the picture back.

"Why such a fuss?" Malfoy asked frowning. But, being a Slytherin to the core, he seemed to have loved the fact that Hermione Granger was _begging_ him for something that she wanted. Malfoy raised his arm high up so that it would be completely out of Hermione's reach.

"Stop being so childish, Malfoy. I need t-that picture!"

While panting short breaths, Hermione took a step back, crossed her arms and stared up at the man.

"Look, it's been five years, like you said, Malfoy, and I-I don't want us to go throwing curses at each other like we used to at Hogwarts. You said so yourself that we should be civil. Because you know, we're 28. We know better than fighting again." Hermione started. "But that picture is... please... Can you put it back down?" She asked.

Hermione quickly glanced up at the man in front of him.

His eyes had an interesting emotion in them, she then noticed. "Malfoy?" Hermione asked in an unsure tone. Something about him didn't seem right. He was trembling. He was trembling like hell.

"You okay?" She asked again, frowning.

Just then, Malfoy quickly shoved the frame at Hermione, as if it the picture was something extremely dirty. "Th-This thing..." He whispered to himself as he almost threw the picture towards the woman in front of him.

But Hermione, who didn't expect Malfoy to react in such a way was startled and took another step back.

The photo crashed to the floor. Glass scattered everywhere as Hermione, wide-eyed, tried to catch it in mid air.

"No!" She screamed out, but she was much too late.

"Malfoy! How..." Tears started to form in her eyes. Hermione crouched down on the floor, rubbing her eyes, and stared at the small pieces of glass on the floor. She then glared up at Malfoy, who was still trembling. "How dare you..."

But when she stood up to spit out another insult at the man in front of her, she noticed that he had already left.

He was gone.

"What the..." She said to herself.

Hermione, devastated as ever, whispered a quiet _Reparo,_ placed the photo back on the shelf, drank the rest of her coffee she had made and went to bed.

Malfoy's mug was still on the coffee table. So was his mask and his cap.

And for the first time in two years, Hermione didn't dream of Ron.

* * *

 _"A muggle photo?" Malfoy asked Hermione while quirking his eyebrows at her._

 _"Why? Do you have a problem?" She asked back, tapping her feet on the wooden floor._

 _"Nope. Not a problem at all." He responded. Hermione shivered._

 _"I love taking pictures, too." Hermione suddenly blurted out._

 _"Yeah? I never saw you take a picture yourself though." Malfoy asked while putting the picture back down on the shelf. While grazing his fingers against the shelf, he slowly turned around to face Hermione, who involuntarily took a step back._

 _"I can take great pictures, you know that." Malfoy whispered as he reached out for a small camera that was on the white floor. "Want to pose for the camera?"_

 _Hermione let out an empty laugh. "No thank you, Malfoy. Last time we were out on a picnic together with that camera, all you did was take pictures of my nose. Not pretty, no." Malfoy stared down at Hermione while turning on the Muggle device. "I'm not gonna take a picture for you, never."_

 _"I know you want to, Granger. Smile." He said. His voice became much more lower, husky even. "Smile for.. me. I know you want to."_

 _"Oh, would you please, shut up?" Hermione started to grin. "I really have no intention- Aah!" She screamed out a muffled cry, startled, as her lips met with Malfoy's, but she could feel his smile against his warm lips._

 _"You shut up, you blasted woman." He smirked, between kisses. "Keep your sassy, fucking mouth closed, do you get it?" He slightly pulled away, their foreheads still touching._

 _"Only if you promise me not to take pictures of my nose anymore." Hermione replied, as her heart filled up with a bubbly feeling._

 _"I love your nose, Granger. You know I do."_

 _"And I don't give a fuck about your perverted infatuation about my nose, Malfoy." She said, smirking. "I don't give a fuck at all." Hermione took a tiny step back with that huge smirk on her face and twirled her hair in her fingers._

 _"Oh yeah? Is that so?"_

 _-Click-_

 _"Oh my god, Malfoy! Hand me the camera!" Malfoy quickly ran away from Hermione's reach, holding onto the device with dear mercy. And with a huge smile on her face, Hermione raced after him._

 _But just then, the door of her flat opened suddenly, and a huge man with a dark mask on his face stepped in, pointing a wand at Hermione._

 _"Who-" She started. Malfoy, who was near the kitchen tagged along, with a worried look on his face. But the man ignored Hermione and began to stomp his way towards her._

 _And unfortunately, she couldn't finish her sentence as a bright green light surrounded her._

 _Hermione fell to the floor with a thud._

* * *

A single droplet of sweat fell from Hermione's face as she woke up from her slumber. Her head ached like hell, as the clear visions of the dream she just had played about in her mind.

"What just happened..." Muttered Hermione while rubbing her face. Clearly, dreaming of kissing Draco Malfoy and of her own death wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world. She quickly got up, trying to forget the vivid dream, and walked over to the bathroom.

But she stopped completely, in the middle of her tracks, when she realized something.

Draco Malfoy had been killed by Lord Voldemort, just before the war ended. And that was more than seven years ago.

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 **Tada! First chapter of Until the Storm!**

 **Oh, right. No worries, people, there aren't any character deaths in the story. At least the important characters do not die.**

 **Please read and review. Love, VenderMalfoy**


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